Chapter 7
MADISON
The uproar in the conference room is deafening. Crane jumps to his feet, pounding on the table, spittle flying from his mouth as he flings abuse at me, Ms. Rubio, and our dead aunt. Derick shouts several swear words, a dark look in his eyes like he wants to hurt someone or something.
Of the three, Ford looks the least upset. “Guys, look at all the money we got—”
“You should be more upset, you dumbass.” Crane shoves Ford’s chair, nearly toppling him over. “She’s going to kick you out of your home!”
Ms. Rubio stands. To her credit, she doesn’t yell, yet she makes herself heard. “If you three don’t settle down immediately, I will have security escort you from the building.”
Crane and Derick grumble, but they mellow out. Ford looks embarrassed.
“Now, because Vivienne was prepared for everything,” Ms. Rubio says, “she arranged for much of the work and gifts to be completed while she was alive. This is an unusual case, but all funds are available to you now.”
“What are you saying?” Crane asks.
“I’m saying that checks are waiting for you three at the counter.”
“But the will isn’t fair.” Derick pounds on the table.
“Whether it is fair or not,” Ms. Rubio says, “it is legal. You’re welcome to contest it, although I’d recommend against that.”
Crane elbows Derick, like contesting the will is a good idea.
“If that’s all?” Ms. Rubio asks, standing. “I still need a few words with Ms. Greene.”
I feel like I’m floating, untethered. None of this is real, is it? A house? A savings account? I grip the edge of the conference table, hoping to bring myself back to earth.
“One other thing. You should be aware there is a no-contest clause.” Ms. Rubio checks her watch as she leads my cousins to the door. “You’re free to try to claim more of Vivienne’s assets, but if your claims are unsuccessful, you will lose your entire inheritance.”
Crane’s mouth gapes open. “No-contest clause?”
“That’s a real thing?” Derick’s face goes pale.
“Very real,” Ms. Rubio says.
“Guys.” Ford speaks up from behind them. He glances at me, then down at the floor. “Guys, let’s just go. It isn’t Madison’s fault. These were Vivienne’s wishes—”
“Shut up, Ford.” Derick stomps from the room, Crane on his heels.
Ford gives me one more regretful look before following his brothers.
Ms. Rubio closes the door behind them and pulls in a deep sigh. She resumes her place at the table and gives me a look that is half pity, half business. “You are no doubt surprised by the contents of the will.”
“Very.” My voice comes out quieter than I intended.
“Over the course of our working relationship, Vivienne and I became friendly with each other. She was a pistol, with a kind heart.”
I nod—that’s the Vivienne I remember, too.
“While your parents wouldn’t allow you to have a relationship with her, she did pay attention to your life, where she could. She cared deeply for you.”
“I should’ve looked her up.” I shake my head. “She’s the one person who I thought might care, but after the rest of my family sort of abandoned me, I felt like I didn’t have any claim, I guess. Or maybe I always thought I’d do it later, that I had more time.”
I’m babbling, sharing too much personal shit with a stranger. I force my mouth closed.
Ms. Rubio gives me a sympathetic look. “Everything you’re saying is very, very common.”
“I just wish…” I blink back tears, angry with myself because I have no claim on grief. “I just wish she knew I cared, that she knew she was special to me.”
“She knew.” Ms. Rubio’s voice is gentle.
“All due respect,” I say, “but you can’t know that.”
She chuckles. “But I can. Vivienne hired a private investigator—just to check on you, not to spy. She wanted to make sure you were housed, healthy, all that. And in a photo taken by the PI to reassure her that you were well, Vivienne saw that.”
Ms. Rubio points to the ring on my right hand—the star sapphire.
“So she knew where I was, and she didn’t reach out to me, either?” I’m not sure what to do with this revelation.
“She was somewhat shy. Also, she didn’t want to overstep.” Ms. Rubio shrugs. “She had your best interests at heart, all the time. She knew your parents are—I apologize. This isn’t my place.”
I can only chuckle. My parents are shitheads. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Great-Aunt Vivienne clocked that, savvy as she was.
“At any rate.” Ms. Rubio smiles and shuffles in her manila folder for some papers. “I have here the keys and deed to the house on Oak Street, paperwork that shows you have access to Vivienne’s savings account, and the key and paperwork for her safe deposit box.”
“This is surreal.”
“I can only imagine.” She passes several papers and envelopes over to me. “You can move in immediately.”
One of the envelopes is heavy and bulky. I look inside and see several keys.
This has to be a dream.
I shake my head, trying to clear it.
Ms. Rubio folds her hands together. “There is one hiccup, however. Ford, your cousin, has been living rent-free in Vivienne’s house on Oak Street. He was informed that he would have to vacate in the event of Vivienne’s death.”
So that’s what Crane was talking about when he told Ford, “She’s going to kick you out of your home.” Except I’m not doing it—Vivienne already did.
What a mess.
“Maybe I’ll wait a few days before moving,” I say.
“He should already be on his way out.” Ms. Rubio nods. “I just wanted you to be aware that if there are things left behind, or a mess, it is likely his doing. Although he doesn’t seem quite as…agitated as his brothers.”
I always thought Ford was a little odd, but overall, Ms. Rubio is right. He’s always been the calm one of the three.
“This is probably more money than you’re used to,” she adds, nodding at the envelopes I hold. “Included in the paperwork are numbers for financial planners I recommend. If you invest wisely, it’s possible you won’t need to work.”
I gasp. Surely, it isn’t that much money…
She continues, “You may also want to hire security. Ironwood is an excellent company, and their number is included as well. Ask for Jaxon, and tell him I referred you. He’s an old friend.”
“All right, I will.” My mind is spinning. This is too much. I want to laugh, and I want to cry.
Ms. Rubio stands, signaling that she’s done.
The meeting is over. I’m now free to go and…
I don’t know. I peer inside one of the thin envelopes and see a bank statement with so many numbers on it, my vision goes blurry.
Surely I didn’t read that right. That’s…
it’s over a million dollars. And it’s mine?
My cousins didn’t get this much money from our great aunt.
“Why me?”
Ms. Rubio’s smile is kind. “She told me once that the two of you had a kinship. A special conversation, long ago.”
“I remember it.” I touch the star sapphire on my finger. “It meant a lot to me.”
“It meant a lot to her, too.”
* * *
DAMIANO
Madison’s phone rings several times before she answers. “Hello?”
She sounds breathless. Did she hold her phone and stare at the number before answering? Or was it far from her, and she had to run to reach it? Maybe she was somewhere quiet, and had to race from the room in order to pick up the call.
I want to know. I want to know everything about her. Maybe I will be disappointed. That is the usual way these things go. I could live with that—it might make things easier.
But I’ll never know if I don’t pursue her.
I get up from my desk and pace my office. Moving helps me focus. “Madison. Bella. This is Damiano.”
“Hello, Sir. I mean—crap. Damiano.” Her voice is muffled, but I think I hear, “I’m an idiot.”
Grinning to myself, I say, “I’d love to have dinner with you. Are you free on Saturday?”
“I have to work.” She sounds genuinely disappointed.
“Friday?”
“That, I could do. I can meet you. Where and when?”
I’d rather pick her up, see where she lives, learn more about her. But I can force myself to be patient. “Chez Michel. I’ll make reservations for nine.”
“Great.” She sounds as if she’s smiling. “I’ll see you then.”
I end the call and close my eyes, picturing her beautiful face, the way it twisted in ecstasy while she rode my dick. Fucking her at the auction was most excellent. Getting to know her, I hope, will be just as good.
* * *
MADISON
The stack of envelopes from Ms. Rubio’s office sits on my dresser.
Since getting home yesterday, I’ve been afraid to do anything with it.
I’m afraid to touch it, to look at it. I need to go to the bank and make sure I can access everything, but with that amount of money, I should talk to someone before making any decisions, right? Someone who knows what they’re doing?
I sit up in bed and stare at the envelopes. I now have a house, and a safe deposit box. A bank account. More money than I ever expected to see in this lifetime. It should probably be invested or something.
Although a tiny, tiny portion will go to buying a dress for Friday night.
A date with Damiano. I conjure his face and his body in my mind. He was so powerful, attentive, commanding.
I can’t imagine him, though, without imagining Seth, too.
An hour later, it sounds like my roommates are both up and moving around in the living room, so I throw on some clothes and head out to break some hard news.
I have to do it in such a way that they don’t expect to move with me. Because hell no.
“Guys…” I wait until they’re both looking at me. “I’m moving out.”
Felix’s mouth drops open. “What? Why? Did you meet someone?”
“No, I…” Shit. “There’s a house I can move into. I can’t bring roommates, though. But don’t worry, I’ll still pay—”
“What the fuck, Madison? We have a good system.” Felix throws his arms out to gesture at the entire apartment—the entire apartment that I cleaned last night in a fit of post-inheritance nerves. “Hugo, tell her.”
Hugo looks up from the car race on TV. “I like you living here. You’re nice, and you get us groceries when we’re out of food.”
Leaning back against the kitchen counter, I struggle not to roll my eyes.
I clean. I run errands. I’m probably the only thing standing between the two of them and scurvy.
“Either way, guys, my situation has changed. I’ll pay my share of the rent until our lease is up in November, but I’m not paying utilities since I won’t be here. ”
Felix swears under his breath before stalking out of the living room and down the hall. A second later, his bedroom door slams.
“Wow,” Hugo says, his eyes on the car race. “He’s really mad. I’m sad you’re leaving, but I’ll help you with heavy boxes if you want.”
“Thanks, Hugo.” My heart softens. When I go to the store to buy moving boxes, I’ll get him some of those instant ramen packets he likes. I have a feeling that once I’m gone, he won’t be eating much else.